The Prince Diaries
by SammieBelle2
Summary: Based on the Princess Diaries novel by Meg Cabot. Kurt lives in New York City with his father, and has never met his mother or her family, until one day...
1. Chapter 1

Tuesday, September 23

Sometimes it feels like all I ever do is lie.

My dad thinks I'm holding in my feelings about this. I tell him, "No, Dad, I'm not. I think it's really neat. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

Dad says, "I don't think you're being honest with me."

Then he hands me this book. He tells me to write what I'm feeling in it, since I never tell him, or anyone really, what I'm feeling.

You want to know what I'm feeling? I'll tell you what I'm feeling:

I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S DOING THIS TO ME!

Like everybody doesn't already think I'm a freak. I'm a fourteen-year-old, five foot six, pasty-skinned BOY whose voice still hasn't changed. Could I be more of a freak?

If people at school find about this, I'm dead. Dead, I tell you!

Are you there, God? It's me, Kurt Hummel. Please don't let them find out!

Out of all the women in Manhattan, my dad HAS to go out with Miss Hudson. He can't go out with some lady I don't know. Not some pretty customer at the dealership, oh no.

He has to go out with my algebra teacher.

Thanks a lot, Dad.


	2. Chapter 2

Wednesday, September 24- Fifth Period

Mercedes says, "Miss Hudson's cool."

Yeah, right. She's cool if you're good at algebra, like Mercedes Karofsky. She's not so cool if you're already failing algebra in the first month of high school, like me.

She's not so cool if she makes you stay after school EVERY DAY to catch up when you could be hanging out with your friends. She's certainly not cool if she calls your father in for a parent-teacher conference, then SEDUCES him.

Okay, maybe she didn't seduce him, per se. But he liked her enough to ask her out, and my Dad's never done that.

Quinn Fabray, for example, has actually seduced Noah Puckerman into being her boyfriend. They're always making out against Puck's locker, which is right next to mine. It's pretty gross.

Though I can't say I'd mind making out with Puck myself. He's a junior, on the crew team, with huge biceps, a year-round tan, and also he doesn't have any hair because private school administrators don't take too kindly to mohawks. It's funny, I mean, my Dad has no hair, but on Puck it just looks good, you know?

I would look horrible without hair. I'd look like a lima bean, what with my chubby cheeks and ghostly complexion.

Mercedes is the only one who knows I'm gay. Well, everyone suspects it, since I'm so tiny and squeaky-voiced. But she's the only one I've confirmed it to. I haven't even talked to my Dad about it. It never came up, I guess.

"If you're that upset about it, just tell your Dad" Mercedes says. "Tell him you don't want him going out with her. I don't get you, Kurt. Why don't you speak up for a change? Your feelings matter, you know."

Oh, right, like I'm going to bum Dad out like that. He's so happy about this date, it's making me sick. He's started to cook! I'm not even kidding. Dad hasn't cooked since I learned to, when I was about eight. I don't get it- last night I was all set to order Chinese AGAIN, and he was all like, "No takeout tonight, kiddo! I made pasta!"

I keep telling him not to call me kiddo. I might still look half my age- people keep telling me it'll be a blessing when I'm older- but I'm not a kid!


	3. Chapter 3

Thursday, September 25

In algebra today, all I could think about was how Miss Hudson might be kissing my Dad tomorrow night. Gross. She asked me a really easy question- she's always trying to include me for some freaking reason! I wasn't paying attention either, on account of the whole might-kiss-my-dad thing.

"Sorry Miss, what was the question?"

Quinn Fabray rolled her eyes and tossed her stupid, perfect blonde ponytail. "What was the question?" she mocked in a faux high-pitched voice.

Really, what does Puck see in her? Yeah, she's pretty. But she's so mean.

Maybe she's nice to Puck, though. I'd sure be nice to him. He's one of the hottest guys in school.

Anyway, I could sort of see why Dad asked Miss Hudson out. She's definitely pretty, for someone around his age. She could do with a makeover, though. If she let Mercedes style her, she'd look really gorgeous. Like a TV mom.

I mentioned this to Mercedes at lunch, and she laughed. "Yeah, like a teacher would let me do her hair and junk. Are you gonna eat those tots?"

Mercedes says I need to put the whole thing out of my mind. She says I'm taking my anxiety over the fact that I'm failing something so early in the semester, and transferring it to anxiety over my Dad and Miss Hudson. She says this is called displacement.

It sort of sucks when your best friend's parents are psychologists.

They have a pretty great love story, though. Paul and Cecilia met in college, and became good friends for years. Paul's first wife died giving birth to their son, David. (That's how I know their family- my mom died having me, too. Dad and Paul met at a support group.) Mercedes' biological father was never around. Cecilia and Paul fell in love and got married when Dave and Mercedes were little.

Anyways, today after school the Drs. Karofsky were trying to diagnose me again. Mercedes and I were just sitting there playing Boggle, and Cecilia was all like, "Kurt, how do you feel about your father dating your algebra teacher?"

I said, "I feel fine about it."

Why can't I speak up?

But what if Mercedes' parents tell my Dad? I don't want him to know I feel weird about it, he's been so happy.

The worst part was that Mercedes' older brother Dave overheard the whole thing. He totally burst out laughing, but I didn't see what was so freaking funny!

"Your Dad is dating Carole Hudson?!"

Oh, great. Now Dave knows, too!

I had to beg him not to tell anybody. He has study hall with Mercedes and I, cause he's like super smart and tutors younger students during that time. I guess super smart people don't need to study or something.

Ms. Holiday is in charge of study hall, but she spends all her time in the teacher's lounge. So, we mostly just hang out in there.

And, we lock the new Canadian kid in the closet so we don't have to hear him practice his stupid "fiddle".

But just because Dave and I are united against Sam Evans and his fiddle, doesn't mean he'd keep quiet about my Dad and Miss Hudson.

Dave kept saying, "What'll you do for me, huh, Hummel?"

But there's nothing I can do for Dave Karofsky. Dave is a junior who has always gotten straight A's, and will likely follow in his parent's Ivy League footsteps. What could I do for someone like him?

There's a lot I'd like to do, actually. Puck might be hot, objectively, but he's also a horrible student, and kind of an asshole. Dave, on the other hand, is super smart like I said, but he's also really, really nice. Obviously, being so smart, he's pretty nerdy and unpopular, like Mercedes and I. He's not on any teams, so he doesn't go to any crazy parties like the cool kids. He spends a lot of time in his room, probably reading really advanced textbooks or something.

Occasionally, Dave comes out of his room and bugs us. Sometimes when he does this, he is not wearing a shirt. Even though he's not on any teams, Dave has a really nice chest. So I guess he works out in there?

Puck is hot, stupid, and mean, but Dave is super hot, super smart, and nice, but, you know, sarcastic.

I've had this stupid crush on him ever since I could remember. But I don't count on it leading to anything. Dave is probably straight, although he's never had a girlfriend. I've never told anyone about my crush, not even Mercedes, and we've been best friends our whole lives.

Anyway, Dave seemed to get tired of me offering to do his chores or walk his dog. Because he just rolled his (gorgeous hazel) eyes, said, "Forget it, Hummel" and went back to his room.

I looked at Mercedes, who had narrowed her eyes and was looking from her brother's closed door to my flushed cheeks.

"Who's he going to tell? Dave doesn't have any friends."

That was so mean! I'm totally Dave's friend. Even if I'd really, really like to be more than that.


	4. Chapter 4

Later on Friday

I was staring dejectedly at the pencil marks on the side of my bedroom door, which indicated that I'd barely grown an inch since seventh grade. Totally not thinking about the fact that my Dad was out with my algebra teacher, when the phone rang.

"Hello, Hummel residence. Kurt speaking."

"Kurt! Is your father at home?" a lady with a French accent demanded.

I got this really weird feeling. All I cold think of was how my mom was French, and how her family didn't approve of them being together. And how I'd never met anyone from my mom's side before.

"No, sorry, he's not here at the moment. Can I take a message?" I may have been raised in America, but Dad DID teach me manners.

"Please have your father phone Clarisse back immediately" the French lady ordered. "It is of the utmost importance."

"Of course" I replied, scrawling down "Clarisse" and the number she barked at me on the pad we keep by the phone.

After hanging up, I stared dejectedly again, but this time, at my reflection in my bathroom mirror. Honestly, how could fate or genetics or whatever be so cruel?I'm still so freaking short, everyone just KNOWS I'm gay without me telling them, and I'm so pale that I blend into the walls!But not enough to avoid Quinn Fabray's taunts.

Dad says I take after my mother, which I guess is true, judging by the pictures we have. She was really beautiful. I've always been jealous of the pictures Mercedes has, of her mom holding her as a baby. My mom was already gone when I was that small.

I wonder if Dave has that same jealous feeling sometimes. Only, he's always had Cecelia. My dad never seemed interested in dating until he met Miss Hudson.

I fell asleep having a very unrealistic fantasy about Dave taking me to Cultural Diversity dance, which is next month. Like that'll ever happen. Still, it's nice to think about.


	5. Chapter 5

Saturday, September 27

I was asleep when Dad got home from his date. He was up already when I came into the kitchen, which was weird, because he usually sleeps in on weekends.

But there he was, singing along with John Mellencamp on the radio and making pancakes. Pancakes! I nearly fell over in shock.

Of course, they had a wonderful time. He took her to dinner at Monte's, then they walked around the West Village and went for drinks, and "talked for a bit", Dad said. He was actually blushing, which makes him look like Santa Claus. You know, the whole nose like a cherry thing.

Gross.

They're going out again this week.

I guess I don't mind, if it makes him happy.

After I finished my pancakes, I held up the notepad where I'd written the name of that mysterious French lady. "Someone called fir you last night" I told Dad. "Clarisse. She said to call her back right away."

Dad dropped his fork. "Who?!"

"Clarisse" I repeated. "Who is she, Dad?"

My father's blush had suddenly faded to ghostly pale. I could almost see the resemblance between him and I.

"Dad? Are you all right?"

He blinked rapidly and started scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah I'm fine. Don't you have something to do with Mercedes today?"

I nodded. I usually hang out at the Karofsky's apartment on weekends. Mercedes and I do our homework together, but mostly we just goof off. And I get to see Dave come out of his room without a shirt, which is SO not one of the main reasons I go there. Definitely not.

Dad seemed okay, I guess, but I could tell he wanted to wait until I'd left to call back this Clarisse person. It certainly sounded like she could be related to my mom.


	6. Chapter 6

Monday, September 29- Study Hall

I've been watching Miss Hudson closely for any signs she might've had a bad time with Dad. She seemed to be really happy, though. She was all like, "Remember, tryouts for the school musical are continuing today! Kurt, have you auditioned?"

I thought I would totally die! I know Miss Hudson was only trying to be nice because she's dating my Dad. But HELLO- why would the shortest guy in the freshman class audition for the musical?! I would NEVER draw attention to myself like that.

Not that I don't like to sing. Or dance. But those things are reserved for my bedroom, with the door locked, while Dad's out at his weekly poker game with the guys from work. I've certainly never let anyone hear me.

Mercedes is an _amazing_ singer. Like, Aretha amazing. She's not in the musical either, though. She says her talents would be wasted in a high school production of _Oliver._ She's on the stage crew, though.

I was so embarrassed by Miss Hudson's question that I couldn't even say anything. I could tell I was blushing though, case my face went really warm.

When I went to my locker after class, Quinn was there waiting for Puck. "Hey, Kurt" she sneered, staring down at me. Quinn is five-foot-seven already. "Still too short to audition for the musical?"

Which was totally not clever, but still. She's so awful. I wanted to slap her- not that I ever would; I'm not a violent person. I can't even tell my Dad or my best friend what I'm actually thinking!

Puck appeared just then, and he totally heard her tearing me down. I tried not to stare at him- everyone already assumes I'm gay, but checking out straight, popular athletes is kind of asking for trouble.

Mercedes practically growled at Quinn when she made her little comment about my height. Mercedes is only five-three and chubby, but she's still beautiful. Even when she's that mad. She goes, "Why don't you do us all a favor and curl up someplace and die, Fabray?"

Quinn got all pissy, but Mercedes was like, "Bite me" and hooked her arm through mine and walked away. Mercedes isn't afraid of anyone.


	7. Chapter 7

Tuesday, September 30th

Dad was waiting for me when I got home. He looked sick, like he didn't want to tell me something bt he had no choice. He wasn't singing or cooking this time.

"Sit down, kiddo" he said. "We gotta talk."

"What's going on, Dad?" I asked him, kind of dreading the answer. The queasy look on his face was not a good indication.

I sat down on the couch, beside Dad's recliner, and he put his huge hand over my (embarrassingly) tiny one.

"Kurt" my dad looked at me all sad, and too this big deep breath. "you know your mom's family weren't big fans of me. I feel terrible that you never got to know them."

(Which was totally a weird thing to say, like, sorry you don't know these snobby people who hate your own father.)

"But" Dad continued, "Your uncle Gerard just died."

"Oh" was all I could say. I mean, it's not like I even knew I had an uncle Gerard! "Was he sick?"

Dad nodded. "He had an awful drinking problem. He crashed his Porsche."

"Oh" I said again. (Is it bad that my first thought was, _I hope the car's okay_? I mean, I _was_ raised by a mechanic!) "So, we have to go to a funeral or something?"

Dad took another deep breath. "Your grandmother's coming here, after the funeral" he said. "She needs to talk to you about...stuff."

I nodded, but inside I was all like, _Porsche...grandmother...oh my God, was my mom RICH?!_

"When is she coming?" I asked, as Dad got up and started looking through the takeout menu drawer.

"Thursday" he muttered, picking up the cordless to order dinner. "She wants to have dinner with you at her hotel."

"Just me?" I noticed he hadn't said 'have dinner with _us_ '.

"She's still not too happy with me" Dad said.

"Then what does she want with _me_?" I whined. "What's really going on, Dad? Why do I have to see her if she hates you?"

Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "It's okay, kiddo" he told me. "It's all gonna be okay."

I guessed I'd just have to trust him.


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday, October 1

Mercedes could tell something was "up" with me. But the thing was, how could I explain what was "up" when I didn't even know myself? Sure, it seemed like my rich, long-estranged grandmother (who, it turned out, was staying at the PLAZA!) was flying in from France, possibly to tell me I'd inherited a fortune or something.

But honestly, with my luck, there had to be a catch.

Luckily, Mercedes was distracted in study hall. She passed me a note that said, **Damn, this new boy is cute!**

 _Who's cute?_

 **Sam!**

 _Um, right. Have you heard him talk? His accent is so weird!_

 **Kurt! Don't be mean.**

 _I'm sorry! I didn't know they talked like that in Canada. Shania Twain doesn't have that accent._

 **Shania? Really, Kurt?**

 _What? She's cool!_

 **Are you feeling all right?**

 _Sort of._

Mercedes raised an eyebrow at me.

 _Okay, so all of a sudden my grandma who I've never met, wants to meet me._

 **Really? Why now?**

 _Dad said my uncle died, and my grandma wants to have dinner with me tomorrow and talk or something._

 **Wow, so mysterious! Why didn't your Dad just tell you?**

 _I don't know! He always said they disapproved of him._

 **Let me know as soon as you find out, okay?**

 _Yeah, totally._


	9. Chapter 9

Thursday, October 2

I'm so freaked out, I can barely write. But I have to get this down exactly how it happened. I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow and think it was just a nightmare.

But it's not a nightmare. Oh God, this is really happening!

I'm not telling anybody, not even Mercedes. She would NOT understand. NOBODY would understand. Because I don't know anybody who's ever been in this situation before. Nobody ever went to bed one night as one person and then woke up to find out they were somebody completely different!

Okay, so I walked into the Plaza, in my school uniform, all nervous and stuff. I felt like I must be even more pale than usual, if that's even possible. And I told them I'm meeting a Clarisse Renaldo for dinner, and I felt like my voice goes even higher because I was SO NERVOUS.

So they lead me into the dining room, and it's like super fancy. This tall, well-dressed, frightening woman stood up and looked at me, and I looked at her. She's my grandmother. She must be.

"Edouard!" she exclaimed, then she grabbed me and kissed me on both cheeks. I'm practically trembling, because HELLO! Who is this woman, and what does she want with me?

"Sit down" she commanded, in that same authoritarian voice she used on the phone when she asked for my Dad.

I sat, and a waiter brought me water. Clarisse stared at me, and sighed. "You look just like your mother."

I nodded. "So I've heard, ma'am."

She glared at me. "You may address me as Grandmere."

Boy, was I glad I've been taking French classes for ten years. "I'm sorry, Grandmere" I said in French.

Her face lit up- a very unsettling sight. "You speak French! Very good."

I nodded again. The waiter came back, and Clarisse- sorry, Grandmere- ordered us salads.

"Kurt" she began, laying her bony hand over mine. Her nails are immaculate, and her sparkling rings were cold against my skin. "Your mother was a very important woman. We come from the small country of Genovia, have you heard of it?"

"Yes, I geography class" I told her.

"So you are aware that the Renaldo family has ruled over Genovia for many hundreds of years?"

I started to feel dizzy. "Ruled?" I repeated. _Renaldo. Clarisse Renaldo. My grandmother. Ruled._

Clarisse nodded. "Your mother was Princess Elizabeth Liliane Grimaldi Renaldo of Genovia. She was destined to rule our great nation, but as you know, she was taken from us too soon. Her younger brother, my dear Gerard, has also tragically met his end, leaving no heir to the throne. And so you, my dear, are no longer simply Kurt Hummel." Only she said it 'ummel, and like it tasted bad or something.

"I'm not?" The dizziness was instensifying.

"You are Edouard Christoff Grimaldi Renaldo, crown prince of Genovia."

I couldn't hep it. I could taste my lunch coming back up. I started to cry. And not subtly, either. Just huge, asping sobs, and I'm sure my face went from ghostly to beet red.

"Edouard, please don't make a scene" Clarisse hissed. "You needn't worry so. I think you will quite enjoy Genovia. There is plenty of room for you at the palace-"

"The PALACE?!" I interrupted, sniffling. "I'm a prince? Palace? I have to move to a palace? I don't eve know you!" I blubbered. "You never wanted me cause, cause I'm a Hummel, not a Renaldo!" I stood up from the table, knocking over m y big fancy chair. "I don't care what you say! So the king or whatever dies and suddenly you need me? No way in hell!"

I turned to leave, shaking, but Clarisse grabbed my wrist. "You will NOT speak to your Grandmere this way!" she whispered menacingly. "You will sit down and enjoy this meal with me, and we shall discuss the details of your introduction to the family!"

"I said NO!" I shrieked, and bolted from the room.

So here I am, in Central Park, writing like a maniac, and I'm sure Dad is worried about me. But I just don't know what to do! I have to talk to Dad this. He'd never let this strange woman take me away to some other country! I am SO not cut out for palace life if I have to learn to sword-fight, or get set up with some princess? I've never heard of a gay prince!

No one can find out about this. I'll just go home, apologize to Dad for going missing. Tell him to tell Clarisse thank you very much, but I'm not interested in becoming a prince. All I'm interested in is getting through the ninth grade.


	10. Chapter 10

Friday, October 3

I woke up early, feeling all refreshed and in a good mood. The sun was shining, the pigeons were cooing on my fire escape, and it was Friday! Two glorious days of no math class, AND I get to spend them with my best friend and in the vicinity of her hot older brother.

I walked into the kitchen, and Dad was making French toast. He smiled at me all nervously, and suddenly I remembered.

I'm a prince.

Dad and I hadn't really talked the night before. I'd been too tired, and told him I really just wanted to go to bed. And he'd let me. I took a bath, put on pajamas and crashed. I'd forgotten that I hadn't eaten any dinner, on account of running out on Clarisse.

"Hey, kiddo" my Dad said as he passed me a plate. "I know how upset you must be. But really, it isn't as bad as you're thinking."

 _Oh right, I'm a prince. A tiny, ghostly, gay American prince._

"Hey, a lot of people would be happy about this" he said, all phony like. "You could have a lot of nice things in Genovia, you know. Like a car...and your own horse! Remember, you always wanted one as a kid?"

"Dad" I gasped, my eyes filling up with tears. "What are you doing? Do you want me to go live with Clarisse? Is that it? Are you tired of me or something? Do you want me to move so you and Miss Hudson can-"

Dad grabbed me into a bear hug. "No way, kiddo!" he said, sounding choked up himself. "Why would you say that? I just want what's best for you."

"I want to stay here" I told him. "I want to stay at my school, with my friends."

Dad nodded, but he looked like that would be easier said than done. "I'll talk to Clarisse. C'mon, let's eat."

I was just finishing my French toast when there was a knock at the door. Dad opened it to reveal this tall, beefy guy in dark glasses.

"Good morning, Mr. Hummel" he said. "I'm here to escort His Highness to school. Her Majesty arranged for a car."

So now I have to take this stupid limo to school, with my grandmother's stupid bodyguard. I asked him to pick up Mercedes and Dave, since we usually ride the subway to school together. I didn't want them to think I'd forgotten them. How would I explain it to Mercedes though? Oh, don't mind him, he's just my grandma's chauffeur. Yeah, right.

The only other person at AEHS who gets dropped off in a limo is this totally rich Korean girl, Tina Cohen-Chang. Her dad owns some huge electronics company. Everyone makes fun of her because her parents are all worried she'll get kidnapped between Seventy-Fifth and Madison where she lives, and Seventy-Fifth and Fifth where our school is. She even has a bodyguard who follows her around from class to class. It seems a little extreme, if you ask me.

But Dad wouldn't let me take the subway this morning anyway. It's like, now that I'm a prince, there's all this concern for my welfare. Yesterday, when I was just Kurt Hummel, it was perfectly fine for me to ride the subway. But now that I'm Prince Edouard something-or-other, forget it.

Well, whatever. I may not be super jazzed about potentially being forced to move to a palace, but I;m not actually going to turn down a limo ride!


	11. Chapter 11

More Friday- Math Class

Mercedes could tell right away that something was "up" again. I was all like, "Oh, I just met my grandma yesterday, and she sent the limo to take us to school..."

But I couldn't tell her about the prince thing! Mercedes is pretty religious, being raised by a Baptist AND a Jew, and she's always saying how monarchs aren't better than anyone, because God made us all equal and stuff.

Mercedes thought the limo was cool, but she kept looking at me all worried! "Where did you disappear off to last night? Your dad called to ask if you came over 'cause he couldn't find you."

I just shrugged and avoided her expectant expression by staring out the car window. "I'm fine" I muttered. "I just had to meet my grandma, 'cause, you know, my mom, and now my uncle died, so..."

Mercedes raised her eyebrows. "So what? _Now_ they want to meet you? Not even after what happened to your mom? Did you, like, inherit a fortune or something?" She laughed. I really couldn't look her in the eye at that moment.

 _Ha, ha, ha. A fortune and a whole country! So funny._

But now that I'm sitting here in math class, things don't seem so bad, really. I mean, I thought about it all through homeroom, and I finally realized something- they can't _make_ me be a prince. They really can't. I mean, this is America, for crying out loud. Here, you can be anything you want to be, right? So if I can be anything I want to be, I can _not_ be a prince. Nobody can make me be a prince, not even my scary grandmother, if I don't want to be one. Right?

So when I get home tonight, I'll just tell Dad I'm not going to do it. Tell Clarisse thanks, but no thanks. I'll just be plain old Kurt Hummel.

Oh crap, Miss Hudson just called on me. I am totally not paying attention. I'm all red now, I can feel it. Quinn is laughing her head off, of course. What a bitch.

Miss Hudson's just trying to treat me like everyone else in the class, 'cause of my Dad. Well, I'm not the same. I'm a prince who's terrible at math!

The best thing about going to Mercedes', is that while I'm there I can forget all my problems. Like how I'm flunking math, or how I'm heir to the throne of a small European principality. I can just relax and enjoy some real homemade Poppin Fresh Cinnamon Buns and play with Pavlov, Dave's sheltie.


	12. Chapter 12

Really Late on Friday, Mercedes Karofsky's Bedroom

Okay, so I blew off Miss Hudson's help session after school. I know I shouldn't have. Believe me, Mercedes let me know I shouldn't have. I know Miss Hudson has these help sessions just for people like me, who are flunking. But I've been through a lot this week, okay?

I asked Mercedes if I could spend the night and she said only if I stopped acting like such a head case.

I promised, even though I don't think I'm acting like a head case.

But when I called my Dad to ask him if I could stay over, he said, "Actually, Kurt, your grandmother wants to see you again. She needs to talk with you."

 _Oh, great._

I told my Dad that I would totally go talk with Clarisse, another time. He was all like, "You have responsibilities here at home, Kurt."

"Responsibilities?" Thinking he was talking about cleaning my room, which I totally did yesterday.

"Yeah. Responsibilities to your family."

I just about lost it right there. Responsibilities? He's telling me about responsibilities? My Dad, who hasn't even cooked dinner in the last six years, except recently when he started dating my teacher?

And did he ever think to mention, at any point in my life, that I might possibly end up prince of Genovia someday?

I wanted to slam the phone down, but Mercedes was right there, and she'd already accused me of being a head case. So I went, "Sure, Dad, I can pick up vacuum cleaner bags on my way home tomorrow" and set the phone down gently.


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday, October 4- Early, still at Mercedes' Place

Why do I always have such a good time when I spend the night at Mercedes'? I mean, it's not like they've got stuff that I don't have. The Karofskys only get a couple of movie channels, and we have all of them at our place.

Plus, we have way better people to spy on through our windows. Like Unique, who used to be called Wade before she transitioned, who has the fanciest parties. On Fifth Avenue, where the Karofskys live, there's nobody interesting to watch. Just other rich doctors and their snobby kids.

But it's like every time I spend the night there, even if all Mercedes and I do is hang out in the kitchen eating macaroons left over from Rosh Hashanah, I have such a great time. Mrs. Karofsky never forgets to buy orange juice, and she remembers that I don't like the pulpy kind. Sometimes, if she knows I'm staying over, she'll pick up my favorite lasagna for dinner like she did last night.

I never find moldy old containers of anything in the Karofsky's fridge. Cecelia is really organized about that. She never forgets to pay the electricity bill, like Dad sometimes does. And she talks about normal stuff, like what a deal she got on Calvin Klein pantyhose at Bergdorf's. I love my Dad, but sometimes I wish he was as focused on me as he is on cars. Mr. Karofsky always wants to make me an omelet because he thinks I'm too skinny (HA!) and walks around in sweatpants when he's not working.

Last night was totally fun. The Drs. Karofsky were out at some benefit thing, so Mercedes and I made this huge bowl of buttered popcorn and climbed into her parent's giant bed and watched all the James Bond movies in a row.

Dave came in, shirtless and looking kind of annoyed. He said my Dad had called, all mad because he'd been trying to get through for hours, but Dave had been using the Internet.

I had trouble concentrating on what Dave was saying, due to his lack of a shirt. When I didn't respond, Dave said, "Don't worry, Hummel. I told him you and Mercedes went to bed already."

Yeah right, like my Dad would believe that. It was only eleven. Dave said my Dad said to call him in the morning. Can't wait.

Dave called his dog and made him get into the bed with us, even though his parents don't allow pets in their room. Pavlov crawled into my lap and started licking my face. Dave sat down to watch the movies with us, but after Mercedes started teasing him about the Bond girl "eye candy", he got pissed and got up to leave.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up, Mr. Ambiguous" Mercedes promised. After the movie, she announced that she was tired and stalked off to her room.

I was about to follow her when Dave went, "So, Kurt, what's your type of guy, anyway?"

I looked at him, and I could feel my face turning bright red. _Where the hell did that come from?_ He asked it all casually, like he was just curious or something.

"Um" I managed to squeak out. "What?"

Dave smiled and shrugged. "I mean, do you like these James Bond types? Or, like, Leo DiCaprio? Or are you into Puckerman like all the girls are?"

 _Leonardo is so passé_ , I thought. But I thought that sounded really gay of me, so I said, "Well yeah, Puck's okay. But I'd really like a guy who'd take me to see Beauty and the Beast on Broadway and not make fun of it."

Dave got this weird look on his face, and started to say something- but then the Drs. Karofsky came home and started yelling at us for letting Pavlov in their room and eating popcorn in the bed.

I helped Dave clean up, and went to the living room where I usually slept on the pull-out couch. I'd never want Mercedes to find out how I feel about her brother. She'd think it was weird. Weirder even than me turning out to be the prince of Genovia.


	14. Chapter 14

Later on Saturday

The whole way home from Mercedes', I worried about what my Dad would say when I got home. I'd never disobeyed him before.

Well, okay, there was the time Mercedes and Rachel and Artie and I went to the movies and stayed out really late. I forgot to call Dad until after the movie and we were in Times Square and didn't have enough money left among us for a cab.

But that was just that one time! And I totally learned a lesson from it, without my Dad having to ground me or anything. Not that he'd ever ground me. Who would go to the ATM to get money for takeout if I were grounded?

Still, when Dad gets mad, he gets really mad. Kind of scary, really. I mean, I know my mom died giving birth to me and I'm all he has and stuff, but I can totally keep myself safe.

I tried to hang out at the Karofsky's as long as possible. I loaded the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, I walked Pavlov since Dave was at an astrophysics lecture at Columbia. I even unclogged the jets in the Drs. Karofsky's Jacuzzi.

I am generally a very good son. I don't smoke or do drugs. I don't fool around with boys, although that's not really my choice. I am completely trustworthy, and I do my homework most of the time. Except for one lousy F in math, I'm doing pretty well.

And then they had to spring the prince thing on me.

I decided on my way home that I was totally going to call Judge Judy. Clarisse would be sorry if she landed in front of Judge Judy because of this, let me tell you. People trying to make other people be princes when they don't want to? Judge Judy wouldn't stand for any of it.

Of course, when I got home, it turned out I didn't have to call Judge Judy after all.

Dad looked up from the car magazine he was reading and said, "We need to talk."

I immediately started in about how it wasn't like I hadn't told him where I was, and how I just needed a little time to think about things, and how I'd been really careful and gotten home safe in Clarisse's limo.

And Dad just said, "I know."

Huh?

He got up and bear-hugged me, and was all like, "I understand the stress this has brought you, Kurt, and I want you to know I'll do everything I can to make this easier for you. Clarisse is willing to compromise. She says you can stay at school as long as you promise to spend the holidays with her in Genovia."

I pulled away and looked at Dad. "But I don't even know her! Why do I have to go _there_ for the holidays?"

Dad sighed. "Because, Kurt" he said, looking sick again. "You're heir to the throne of Genovia."

Ugh, don't remind me.

Saturday Night

Dad took off on another date with Miss Hudson. Luckily, he went to pick her up- it would be totally awkward if she came over here and asked why I'd skipped her help session yesterday.

After he was gone, I ordered myself veal Parmesan for dinner and sat down to watch Pop Up Videos.

Here I am again, home on a Saturday night. Not that I'm ever NOT home on a Saturday night, except when I'm with Mercedes. Why am I so unpopular? I mean, I know I look weird and stuff, but I really try to be nice to people, you know? You'd think people would value me as a human being and invite me to their parties just because they like my company. It's not MY fault that I'm so short or that my voice is so high.

I tried to call Mercedes a zillion times, but her phone was busy, which meant Dave was probably online.

I really wanted to talk to Mercedes. I mean, I haven't told her anything about the prince thing, and I'm not going to, _ever_ , but sometimes even without telling her what's bothering me, talking to Mercedes makes me feel better. Maybe it's just knowing that somebody else my age is also stuck at home on a Saturday night. I mean, most of the freshmans go on dates already. Even Rachel has started dating.

Nobody has ever asked me out.

I was pretty bored, and there was nothing really good on TV. I decided to try instant messaging Dave, telling him I really needed to talk to Mercedes, and could he please go offline so I could call her.

Usethe4s: What do you want, Hummel?

KHummel89: I want to talk to Mercedes.

Usethe4s: Talk about what?

KHummel89: None of your business. Just go offline, please. You can't hog all the lines of communication to yourself. It isn't fair.

Usethe4s: No one ever said life was fair, Hummel. What are you doing home, anyway? What's the matter, Puck didn't call? LOL

KHummel89: Very funny. Would you please log off?

Usethe4s: Wait, Kurt. Can I talk to you about something?

KHummel89: What?

Usethe4s: You can't tell anyone though. Not even Mercedes.

KHummel89: I don't tell her everything, you know.

Usethe4s: Right.

KHummel89: I won't! What's wrong?

Usethe4s: I'm gay, Kurt.

 _(What?!)_

KHummel89: Oh. I won't tell anyone.

Usethe4s: Good. You're the first person I've told. I know I'll have to tell my family sometime, but I don't want them to know yet.

KHummel89: I've only told Mercedes. Everyone just just guessed.

Usethe4s: I just thought you'd understand. I think people suspect me, because I've never dated.

KHummel89: You don't have to tell people until you're ready. It's not like I go around dressed in rainbows or anything.

Usethe4s: Ha. Thanks, Hummel.

KHummel89: No problem, Karofsky.

About five minutes after I logged off, the phone rang. It was Mercedes. I wouldn't have told anyone about Dave, but it was nice of him to log off so I could talk to my best friend.


End file.
